Voices of Solitude 




L. B. WATKINS 




Class ^^- •- .:^^^ 
Book_Jtoi^V^ 
GopyrightN" \2lD2._ 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 




My motto through this Hfe I choose to be 

Evolution! 
The light amid the darkness 'round I see- 

Evolution! 
The steady view and mental quiz, 
A delving for the truth there is, 
A building up to loy and bliss — 

Evolution! 




L^/l^Uc^ 



VOICES 


OF 


SOLITUDE 













POEMS 






^ 




WRITTEN 

AND 

COMPOSED 

BY 








LUCI 


AN B. WAl 


^KINS 











CHICAGO 

U A. DONOHUE & COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 



TffJ 






LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

APh 22 m? 

K •epyrtjrht Entry . 
CUSSO^ XXc, Ne. 



Copyright, 1903, by 
LuciAN B.WatkinS 



CHICAGO 

m. a. donohue .^company 
publ^she\s 



CONTENTS 



Autobiography 9 

Introduction 17 

The Vale of Solitude 19 

My Mother's Picture 22 

Love 23 

The Beauties of Woman 24 

The Siren 26 

The Manly Man 28 

The Libertine 29 

The Flower at My Window 31 

The Household Queen 33 

The Man With the Gun 35 

To the Sighing Winds 37 

One of Earth's Few 40 

Only a Little Curl 41 

Rocked on the Waters of the Deep 42 

To the Ocean Pacific 45 

Paul Lawrence Dunbar 47 

Little Golden Pen 48 

To One of the Brave 49 

The New Leaf 50 

" Ever Faithful to You" 51 

The Sunlight of Temperance 53 

The Drink-Slave 54 

" Looking for Work" 56 

The Debtor 58 

A Dedication (Booker T. Washington) 59 

The Hand That Guides the Plow 61 

Toussaint L'Ouverture 63 



San Francisco's i8th of April (1906) 65 

An Ode to the Christian Martyrs 67 

A Memorial (Frederick Douglass) 68 

Life's Day 69 

Pantheon 72 

A Major Chord 73 

A Minor Chord 75 

Time's Chord 77 

Sharps and Flats 78 

A Dirge to Ancient Rome 79 

The Dove 81 

Voices of the Waves. 84 

The Miser 85 

The Spendthrift 86 

Anita 88 

An Elegy to John Brown 94 

The Treasured Curl 95 

Uncle Ike's Opinion of Winterpock's College 97 

The Faded Leaves 100 

Christmas Morn 10 1 

"I Love You, Too" 102 

Have I Done Wrong? 104 

A Divided Love 106 

My Father's Letter 108 

Thanksgiving no 

The Frozen Rain in 

A Winter's Sunrise 112 

The Death of a Soldier- Comrade 113 

Scaevola 119 

Imagination (Essay and Poem) 121 

Retrospection 124 

Teach Me 126 

"Rest in Jesui" 127 

THE ! ! ! 128 



PREFACE 



In compliance with the wish of many friends, 
I have consented to the pubhcation of these prod- 
ucts of my heart and pen, the reading of which, 
I hope, may lead many to feel the emotions that 
prompted me to their production. 

It has been said, "Necessity is the mother of 
Invention." I say that Solitude is the mother 
of Poetry. I speak of solitude in a special sense. 
I do not intend to imply that one must neces- 
sarily be apart from mankind, but I speak of that 
secluded, quiet communion with the imagination 
such as the heart often enjoys regardless of en- 
vironment. In such times of solitude and re- 
flection my heart has often been moved to over- 
flowing, and the trifles of this little volume are 
the deluges that have found expression in words. 

My selections are all brief. Jvist faint touches 
upon the heartstrings of Human Nature. They 
all bear my own originality. Not one is an im- 
itation. Though, doubtless, many of the chords 
have been sounded before, since "there is noth- 
ing new under the sun," and we must all harp 
upon the same strings; yet, there are as many 
different "touches" as there are players, and the 
melody of each harper bears a certain unique 
characteristic. 

This little book is "touched" with the will of 
my ardent desire to reach the thought-centers 



of humanity, and, that these may find here mo- 
tives tending toward the iUustrious influences of 
good thoughts and deeds. Should this result be 
obtained, in any degree, I shall not have striven 
in vain. 

L. B. W. 
Chicago, 111., February 5, 1907. 



AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

"Let another man praise thee, and not thine 
own mouth; a stranger, and not thine own Hps." 

We who are incHned to speak overmuch of 
ourselves seem to feel in these words an open 
rebuke by the wise Solomon. Yet it seems if 
one can. only resist the impulse to soar away 
upon the evil winds of egotism into the vain clouds 
of auto-laudation, he may be permitted to walk 
cautiously about the peaceful valley of truthful 
simplicity. 

I have no reasons to offer in defense of present 
assumption as an autobiographer. I feel that 
my life has been insignificant and, upon my 
part, void of much good. But the vernal years 
of man's allotted "three score and ten" have 
just passed over my head, placing thereon — 
even in their swift flight — many of the silver 
threads of life's autumn. Should there be the 
blessed visual realization of life's summer in 
store for me, I hope to grow into a life of real 
usefulness. 

My father's name is Henderson B. Watkins. 
The maiden name of my mother was Emeline 
Brooks. Humble, praying, Christian parents 
from the lowly log cabin of slavery. "Joined 
together" in those benighted days of servitude, 
and, subsequently, legally confirmed. Both of 
them secretly learned to read print, and were 
devoted readers of the bible. Neither of them 
learned to write. My father became a success- 



ful miner. My mother was an acknowledged 
efficient cook and a competent nurse. Upon the 
summit of industry, perseverance, fortitude, 
goodness, kindness and womanliness my mother's 
life rises before me — an amatory personage. 

According to the "birth record" of our family 
bible, and the unquestionable statement of my 
parents, I was born May 25, 1878, in Chesterfield 
County, Virginia, at a small settlement called 
Otterdale, about twenty miles from Richmond. 

I am the youngest but two of the family of 
fifteen children. Soon after I became seven 
years of age my parents gave me a McGufifey's 
Primer, and one bright Monday morning I was 
sent with my older brothers and sisters to the 
first school that I ever attended. I shall never 
forget how proud and happy I felt that "first 
day in school." My older sister had taught me 
the alphabet. I could read and spell quite well. 

This school was taught by one Mr. Gray, a 
man who was kind in disposition, noble, magnet- 
ic and impressive in his bearing, and a worthy 
teacher. My young heart was drawn toward 
him with the tender liking of true friendship. 
My studies became a pleasure; thus my launch 
upon an educational sea was replete with pleas- 
ures that I am always glad to recall. I do not 
think I gave my teacher much trouble with my 
studies, as I found myself at the end of my first 
session in school ready for the Third Reader, 
with other studies accordingly. For three suc- 
cessive sessions I attended the same school, 
with the same teacher. The next session I 
attended the same school, but had a lady teacher, 
one Miss Tucker, who had been an advanced 
pupil of Mr. Gray's school during my preceding 
school days. The following three sessions I 



attended another school, taught by my older 
sister, Leora, the one who taught me the alpha- 
bet, and to whom I dedicated "The Household 
Queen," of this volume. Sister Leora was also 
formerly a pupil of Mr. Gray's school, but after- 
ward graduated from the Summer Normal 
Course of "The Virginia Normal and Collegiate 
Institute," of Petersburg, Va. 

In December, 1891, my mother died. I was 
then thirteen years of age. I think I was my 
mother's favorite. O! those thirteen years in 
the sunshine of mother's love ! I now look back 
through the dim mists of years and see the 
smiles! hear the voice! feel the caresses of 
MOTHER! 

Soon after my mother's death I began to 
study crayon portraiture and automatic shading 
pen work. Having made fair progress with 
these studies, I made a portrait of my mother. 
From this portrait I received the impulse that 
led me to write "My Mother's Picture." This 
was my first attempt at verse-making, and was 
written when I was thirteen years of age. 

About this time my older brother presented 
me with an organ and I began to study music. 

My parents had early talked of sending me to 
college some day, and in September, 1892, I was 
sent to "The Virginia Normal and Collegiate 
Institute," Petersburg, Va. My sister, Leora, 
bore the greater part of my expenses ; a portion 
I paid by doing janitor work at the school. My 
entrance examination at this school was credit- 
able, and I found it comparatively easy to keep 
up with my class. This session at college hav- 
ing been in every way favorable, and my desire 
for an education being awakened, I endeavored 
during the intermission from the close of school 



in May to its re-opening in September, to earn 
enough money to return to college. In this I 
failed, but earned enough money to buy the 
books sufficient for the class in which I would 
have been had I returned. 

I had heard a college professor tell how he at 
one time, while obtaining an education, found 
himself with insufficient means to return to col- 
lege ; and that he bought books and pursued the 
studies of his class, personally reporting and 
successfully taking each examination, finally 
graduating with his class. This I endeavored to 
do. I succeeded in this to a great extent but, 
unlike my hero, I did not report to take the ex- 
aminations; whether I would have graduated 
with my class or not is one of the untried things 
that must ever be unknown. 

About this time I received my inspirations of 
Christianity, and joined the Baptist church. 
Soon after this I wTote mv second selection, 
"The Vale of Solitude." Then followed "The 
Beauties of Woman," "The Flower at My Win- 
dow," "The Faded Leaves," "The Frozen Rain," 
"Uncle Ike's Opinion of Winterpock's College," 
"A Winter's Sunrise," "The Household Queen," 
"Retrospection," and others. 

In my life there is one love. This is manifest- 
ed in the selections: "A Divided Love," "The 
Treasured Curl," "To the Sighing Winds," 
"Love," "I Love You, Too," and " Ev^er 
Faithful to You." 

In the summer of 1897 I pa.ssed successfully 
the examination for public school teacher. I 
taught school the following two sessions. 

May 25, 1900 (my twenty-second birthday), 
I left home, in company with a cousin and two 



other young men, for the Chamberlin Hotel, Old 
Point Comfort, Va., where we had been promised 
engagements as waiters. Being the least ex- 
perienced of the four of my company, I soon be- 
came discouraged in my attempts at waiting, 
despite the fact I was treated kindly and assured 
that I would become a successful waiter. But 
my despondency increased daily, until I, at 
length, left that hotel and went to Baltimore, 
Md., in which city one of my brothers lived. 
In this city I was engaged as waiter at the "Old 
Town Hotel." One month's work at this hotel 
gave me new ambitions for hotel work. I 
afterward served as waiter at the "Florence 
Hotel," Philadelphia, Pa.; lastly, at the "Queen 
City Hotel," Cumberland, Md. 

Led by the love of adventure and travel, 
coaxed by the hope of experience and the ac- 
quisition of knowledge, driven by the pangs of a 
seemingly hopeless love, August i6, 1900, I en- 
listed in the service of the United States Army. 
I was assigned to the Tenth Cavalry. For my 
first soldierly training, I was sent to Fort Clark, 
Texas. A few months later I was assigned to 
Troop " F" of the Tenth Cavalry then stationed 
at Fort Mcintosh, Texas. The next day after 
joining my troop I was detailed as clerk at the 
post Adjutant's Office. Later I was detailed 
troop clerk. 

April 15, 1 90 1, I embarked with my troop, at 
San Francisco, Cal., for foreign service in the 
Philippine Islands. We arrived at Manila May 
13, 190 1. I served in the campaign against the 
Philippine insurgents on the island of Samar, 
May, June and July, 1901. After about one 
year and four months service in the islands we 
were surprised by an order directing our troop 



to return to the United States. After returning 
to the States, we were stationed at Fort Wash- 
akie, Wyo. (a post then about one hundred and 
fifty miles from any railroad). This being an 
Indian reservation I learned many curious and 
interesting facts in regard to the customs of 
this race of people. During school session 
while serving at this post I was assistant teacher 
of the post school. While here I wrote the 
military record of the First Sergeant of my 
troop. It was published in the February num- 
ber of "THE COLORED AMERICAN MAG- 
AZINE," then published in Boston, under the 
title of "The Life Story of a Typical Fighter." 
By request, I also contributed articles and poems 
to "THE ARMY AND NAVY UNION JOURN- 
AL" of New York. Among them — "A Recruit's 
Resolutions," "Fort Washakie," "The Man 
With the Gun," and "To One of the Brave." 
I remained at this station until the expiration of 
my term of enlistment (August 15, 1903), at 
which date I was given an honorable discharge, 
showing for me an "excellent character and ab- 
solutely temperate habits." During this service 
in the Army I completed a course of "Advanced 
Bookkeeping and Business," with the " National 
Correspondence School," Washington, D. C. 

December 21, 1903, I re-enlisted for service in 
the Hospital Corps, Medical Department, United 
States Army, and was sent to the " Hospital 
School of Instruction," Washington Barracks, 
D. C. Meanwhile, I attended night school at 
the "ARMSTRONG MANUAL TRAINING 
SCHOOL," Washington, D. C, and pursued a 
course of stenography and typewriting. Hav- 
ing completed the prescribed course at the 



"Hospital School of Instruction," I was sent to 
Fort Assinniboine, Mont., for duty. 

October, 1904 (nine months and a few days 
after having entered the Medical Department), 
I passed successfully the examination for Hos- 
pital Sergeant. November, 1904, I received the 
appointment. 

January 25, 1906, by special request, I was 
again sent to the Philippine Islands. During 
this service I was engaged in much actual hos- 
pital work in the field. This was during the 
pulejanes insurrection on the island of Leyte, 
July, August, September and October, 1906. 
Deciding to leave the army service, I was return- 
ed to the United States and received my second 
discharge January ^, 1907. 

" VOICES OF SOLITUDE" breathes all that 
is dear to me in life. Every good emotion of 
which my heart is capable is 'in each line, and is 
a part of me. 

LuCIAxNT BOTTOW WaTKINS. 

February 5, 1907, 



INTRODUCTION 

Dear Readers: — In my heart abides 
Fond Hope, who has a little son — 

His name is Wish, and more besides 
He seems to be a pleasant one. 

He seems obliging in his way — 
Although he is a little lad — 

He comes and offers me to-day 

A service — but his face is sad. 

He says he'll bear this little book 
And place it in your busy hand ; 

Perhaps, you'll, by his honest look, 
His earnest motives understand. 

The little fellow cannot talk 

(This I forgot to say before), 

A mute from birth ; but he can walk 

And look the things he would im- 
plore. 

He always tries his best to please, 

And make you smile approvingly; 

For by this act he always sees 

You take his faults excusingly. 

But when you've learned his noiseless 
speech, 

Indeed, this peaceful little elf 
Will well explain this book, and each 

of all his signs is truth itself. 



He'll tell you of the mournful day, 

In th' early morning of my youth, 

When mother went from me away 

Up to the heavens above, forsooth! 

He'll tell you of the day I wrote 

" My Mother's Picture" when I stood 

Before her photograph to note 

This noble view of womanhood. 

He'll tell you of my Christian birth 
Down in the Vale of Solitude ; 

And of the friends of noble worth 

I've met in life — so kind and good. 

He'll tell you of the girl I love, 

And how her love has helped me live ; 
How all the pretty stars above 

Have lent me songs to sing and give. 

He'll help you see in every way 

The many things that bid me write; 
How hard I try to do and say 

What e'er may give the brightest 
light. 

You'll treat him kindly, now, I know 
And please this little bearer's heart; 

Then in his little bow he'll show 

Another well accomplished art. 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE ig 



THE VALE OF SOLITUDE 



Sweet, silent, Vale of Solitude! 

Secluded, quiet, rest! 
Oft thee I seek with serious mood 

Of thought within my breast. 

Thou beaut 'ous plain amid the hills 
Where sunlight's dancers play; 

'Tis here a fragrant odor fills 

The air with breaths of May. 

A dreamy breeze here gently blows, 
As if from angels' wings; 

The sweetest songs that Fancy knows 
Here in this vale she sings. 



The flowers here all seem to know 

A heart when it is glad ; 
They seem to laugh when one is so, 

And weep when one is sad. 

The chymings of its gentle streams 

Bear beauty's imagery 
Of wasted loves, wars' blood-stained 
dreams — 

Sad trophies for life's sea ! 



20 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



Its lifeless stones lie motionless, \ 

Yet preach their sermons, too, j 

Of dead souls that no Life confess, j 

Though e'er so near the true! \ 



Great sentinels of massy hills — j 

With summits' golden Hghts — : 

Vale's jew'led thoughts rich luster fill 

While in their upward flight. ^ 

I 

The spirit of this dreamy plain ] 

Harm'nizes with each heart; ! 

Each pleasure, sorrow, joy or pain ' 

It seems to share a part. i 



The Savior sought this quiet place 
(Gethsemane was there) 

A seriousness was on His face 
As here He lay in prayer. 



Then all the flowers closed their eyes 
To check their tears of grief, 

A gloomy shade was o'er the skies. 
And breathless every leaf. 



A guilty sinner once I lay 

Upon this sacred ground ; 
All gloomy shadows cleared away 

When peace — sweet peace — I found! 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 21 



With sighs of grief and songs of joy 
This spot I oft have sought ; 

For nothing here seems to annoy 

While I am wrapped in thought. 

Oh, let me in this vale seclude, 

For 'tis a place I love ! 
The sweet, sad Vale of SoUtude 

Leads all my thoughts above. 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE I 

i 

MY MOTHER'S PICTURE 1 



Oh, if thou could' st speak to me, 

My mother dear! 
Silent are those lips I see — 

No voice I hear! 
Mother dear — oh ! dost thou know 
How my heart yearns for thee so? 
When from earth I'm called to go 

May I not fear. 



Thy dear love — oh, I do miss, 

Beloved one! 
Now I never feel thy kiss 

When day is done! 
Thou art gone now as a dove, 
Gone to realms up above, 
But, now longing for thy love 

Is thy dear son. 



Mother, since thou left me here j 

Some years ago, j 

Oft this world seems dark and drear 'I 

Down here below. 

Mother dear, farewell! I trust \ 

When to leave this world I must, > 

When my body lies in dust i 

Then thee I'll know! ; 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 23 



LOVE 

O, Love! Love! Love! mysterious strength! 

Weak e'en is death to ever quench 

Thy glowing, pure, magnetic light. 

The strongest heart hath not the might 

To e'er resist thy entrance there. 

Thy reigning force ne'er fails to bear 

Its fruit fulness. Thou art the true 

Essential of the heart; and through 

Thy incUnation's kingly will, 

Is blended with another, still, 

And now the twain become but one — 

Thus is thy happiness begun — 

And though thy days seem oft so bright, 

Thou sometimes casteth shades of night; 

And in these days of seeming gloom 

The dregs of thy sweet cup assume 

The taste of pain and cruel ache! 

But these dark days dost only make 

The bright ones brighter; and the bad 

And bitter dregs — so truly sad — 

Dost make the sweets but sweeter still. 

And thus thy joyous spirit fills 

Thy hearts with all thy peace's refrain. 

Sweet happiness dwells in thy pains ! 

The blessing of a dreamy bliss 

Is centered in thy magic kiss! 

I fain would have thee dwell with me 

Through Hfe and death — eternity! 



24 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



THE BEAUTIES OF WOMAN 



O, woman of virtue! sweet woman of love! 
As heavenly manna sent down from above 
Your wonderful actions are thus to the world ; 
Then may your love's banner — no never be 

furled, 
But gently waving through ages of time, 
May e'er it be seen in its motions sublime. 



Affectionate woman of truth and pure light ! 
You ease many pains and dear homes you 

make bright; 
And often your tender, sweet voice may be 

heard 
Consoling the sad with an angelic word, 
And tenderly soothing the weary through life, 
Thus lovingly cheering his pathway of strife. 



Sweet woman, you wept o'er the Savior, of old, 
And washed His feet with 3'^our tears, we are 

told ; 
You wiped them dry with the hair of your 

head — 
Put on them a costly sweet ointment, 'tis said; 
Kind woman, then may your dear ministering 

hand 
Ne'er cease noble actions o'er all of the land. 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



25 



Good woman of beauties so noble and true! 
The hearts of this world will ne'er cease to love 

you, 
But always will cherish your name while on 

earth — 
Through sickness and sadness or pleasure and 

mirth ; 
And when time is over and all things must die 
I know you will rest in the "home bye and 

bye." 



26 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



THE SIREN 



Fond mistress o'er the very dreamy treasures 
Of Fairy's love, your shining golden wand 
Each wave e'er summons captivating pleasure 
That don your form and luring jeweled hands. 



The smiles of stolen sweets play in your dimples, 
And at your will fling bright, delusive plights — 
A silv'ry web — invisible and simple — 
To do your bidding — capture vain delights. 

To please you now the colors of the roses 
Glide o'er your cheeks; and those of lilies fair 
Rest on your brow. Fair Nature even poses 
And brightest sunshine lingers in your hair. 

Your teeth e'en seem fair sisters to pure white- 
ness; 
Your eyes with diamond twinkles seem to speak 
Beneath their silken lashes' veiled brightness — 
A pictured love of trueness, kind and meek. 

The magnetism of your presence only 
Invites your victims to their certain fate, 
For with your fatal weapons false you fondly 
Insnare the hearts for which you lie in wait. 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 27 



Slaves to your charms of winsomeness' devising, 
Rejoicing with each kiss of loveless love 
That plays upon your ruby lips, disguising 
Your wit's sweet Falsehood's cooing of the dove. 

Love's noblest monarchs tangle in your webbing, 
Each counts your heel a blessing on his head 
Each fairy day, until the cruel ebbing 
Of your affections shows the husks you've fed! 

Dark, blighted lives! great bleeding hearts! 
lamenting — 

Cursed with your sinful life, and with a night 

Dark as the tomb ! — Your left hand these resent- 
ing, 

Next victims now you're greeting with vour 
right ! 

Wot id's noblest hearts are but your tiny toys 
To baffle, fling aside — forsooth, you can! 
Yea, e'en the tender love of thoughtless boys 
Oft count amid your conquests of the man. 

Your days will end! Your fairy wand will perish! 
We shudder at the fate that 'waites you then! 
Oh ! while the breath of fleeting life you cherish 
Consider! turn! and view a happy end! 



2 8 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



THE MANLY MAN 



O, Maniy Man! born of Perfection's Hand 
With all the beautitude of soul-blown purity ! 
O, Noble Man of blessing to your land, 
Filled with Love's magnetism of sincerity! 

O, Gentle Man! Aye! go where e'er you can 
You'll always find a welcome sweet of loyalty! 
O, Knightly Man! your presence seems to fan 
The glowing flames of worth and royalty. 

O, Honest Man! a little lower than 
The angels is your place of usefulness ! 
Yea, Godly Man! e'en when the world began 
There was prepared for you a peaceful rest ! 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 29 



THE LIBERTINE 



Monarch over weakness, 
Emperor o'er the fair; 

Conqueror of the helpless — 
Falsehood's artful snare. 



Forceful magnetism — 

Willing all you crave — 

Forcing brows of innocence 
In your false love's grave. 



But, this grave is darkness — 
Though the guise be light — 

What may seem day's brightness 
Is but, in truth, a night. 



Into eyes of seeming 

Maidens look and read 

Truth where lies are lurking, 
Love where only greed. 



Soon the cruel moment 

Comes when they do know 
Falsehoods such as dreaming 

Makes a blinded show. 



30 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



Broken hearted victims! 

Saddened lives of sin! 
Weep your tears repenting, 

Better lives you'll win. 

Libertine reveling, 

Will you thus enthrall 
While you hear appealing 

Reason's earnest call? 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 31 



THE FLOWER AT MY WINDOW 



WRITTEN FOR A LADY FRIEND 



O! my heart now feels so cheerful as I go with 
footsteps light 
In the daily toil of my dear home ; 
And I'll tell to you the secret that now makes my 
life so bright — 
There's a flower at my window in full bloom. 



It is radiant in the sunshine, and so cheerful after 
rain; 
And it wafts upon the air its sweet 
perfume. 
It is very, very lovely ! may its beauties never 
wane — 
This dear flower at my window in full bloom. 



Nature has so clothed it in such glorious array, 
And it does so cheer our home, and hearts 
illume ; 
Its dear mem'ry I will cherish though the flower 
fade away — 
This dear flower at my window in full bloom. 



32 VOICES OF SOLITLIE 



Of: : n: 



--ind i tnin^ as ^ : r r. : . I its gay cost'j:^ 
While through life we s -re i as sing may c-jl; 
be always trgii: 
Like this flower at mv v.indo-?r m fu : 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 33 



THE HOUSEHOLD QUEEN 



She looketh well to the ways of her household; and eaieih 
not the bread ojidleness. Her children arise up and 
call her blessed, her husband also, and he praiseth her. 
— Prov. xxxi., 27-28 



DEDICATED TO MY SISTER, 
MRS. SALLIE L. BRANCH 



Let Other poets sing about the queen that wears 

the crown, 
And sits upon a shining throne with dignity's 

renown ; 
But my song to queenly woman is to her who 

comforts home 
With a cheerful heart of sunshine, by industry 

with her broom. 



By the pure and wholesome dishes that her 

careful hands prepare, 
By the rocking of her cradle, with contents so 

precious there ; 
By the love she sheds around her. making life so 

gay and bright 
For those of her dear home circle who at home 

feel pure delight. 



34 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



Thus to her I sing in glory, for to her 'tis justly 

due; 
All through life may many blessings rest on her 

so kind and true. 
In the bright celestial city, glowing with sweet 

love serene, 
When ends here her earthlv mission, there will 

rest the HOUSEHOLD QUEEN. 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 35 



THE MAN ^WITH THE GUN 



WRITTEN WHILE A SOLDIER 
AT FORT CLARK, TEXAS 

With a look of stern demeanor, " duty" stamped 

upon his brow ; 
Every muscle of his body seeming conscious of 

his "vow; " 
There we see beside him Justice — ("Only right 

is right," quoth he) 
At a distance near her lover we behold sweet 

Liberty. 

Meek and queenly Peace is poised on his head, so 

brave and true — 
There it sings sweet songs of dreamland, where 

'tis joy and comfort, too; 
Thus he stands with e'er the pressure of the 

world against his breast — 
Do you wonder why he never wearies — never 

sighs for rest ? — 
See his mother, sister, father, brother, friends 

and sweetheart dear 
'Mid the multitude behind him — looking to him 

from the rear ! 

Then he must not — cannot falter, for whene'er 
he coward grows 



36 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 

Justice dwells no longer with him — strikes for 
him no other blows; 

Liberty, his pride — his dear one, then from him 
is torn away — 

(Death to him is far the sweeter than to live as 
worthless clay) 

Peace now hushes songs of pleasure, lifts its 
light, fantastic wings 

With a song of sad heartbreakings — lo, a fare- 
well song it sings! 



Hark ! what sounds are those of wailings strike so 

mournfully his ear 
Like the weird notes of night-birds from some 

v/oodland brown and sere? 
Ah, alas! 'tis those behind him, now oppressed 

and full of fears — 
And with confident assurance they have looked 

to him for years ! 



O ! we cannot view such horrors ! from this dream 

let us awake. 
View the patriot now nobly standing for his 

country's sake. 
He is earnest, true and faithful, he will face all 

dangers there ; — 
When you're in your secret chamber breathe for 

him these words of prayer 
"Thou, O God, who art his Captain, grant him 

strength — this noble one 
'Til Thy order— 'Blow the Trumpet; faithful 

man, lay down thy gun.' " 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 37 



TO THE SIGHING WINDS 



WRITTEN WHILE A SOLDIER 
AT FORT MC INTOSH, TEXAS 



O, sighing winds! now in thy journey over hills 

and far away, 
Wilt thou bear a message for me — whisper what 

I bid thee say 
To my many friends and kindreds far away in 

distant land, 
Thinking of me in my sojourn on the banks of 

the Rio Grand? 



Wilt thou whisper — murmur softly, while thou'rt 

passing oft the way 
Where now dwells my dear old father with his 

head silvered with gray. 
Fan his venerable forehead with thy calm, sweet, 

breath of Hfe, 
Tell him I am gently passing through this world 

of toil and strife ? 

Tell him though the fatal bullets of some battle 

wild and fierce — 
While they strike the marks of marksmen — 

one this heart of mine may pierce 



38 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



Bid him — oh! if this should some day be the 

tidings of his son 
Only hft his voice to heaven crying — " Lord, thy 

will be done!" 



Then there is a dear and fair one — wilt thou 

grant this earnest plea — 
As thou passeth in thy journey pause and speak 

to her for me ? 
Surely, surely, thou must know her, such a sweet 

and charming one, 
With a head of silken tresses, smiles as bright as 

yonder's sun; 
Eyes of dark and sparkling beauty, face so 

picturesquely fair. 
And her merry peals of laughter fill as silv'ry 

bells the air. 

Surely, thou dost know I love her, and she loves 

me just the same, 
And I have her dear sweet promise that she'll 

share with me my name. 
Wilt thou calm and gentle zephyr, put my silent 

thoughts in words ? — 
I know thou canst bear them for me faster than 

the fleetest birds. 
'Mid the many things thou beareth, with a 

whisper soft and low. 
Tell her I will come back someday, if God wills 

it to be so. 

Tell to all my friends and kindreds that I'm 
striving to be true. 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 39 



Hoping that I may with honor wear this uniform 

of blue. 
Gentle breeze so calmly passing, softly whisper 

all I've said; 
In my sojourn should death take me, gently 

bear the news, "He's dead." 



40 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



ONE OF EARTH'S FEW 



DEDICATED TO MISS R. L. WILSON, 
OF SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS 

Written While a Soldier at Fort Mcintosh, Texas. 

White as are the whitest hHes — lo ! thou art as 
pure! 
Bright as are the brightest jewels thus thy 
hfe is seen ; 
As the brightest gleam of sunshine enters any 
door, 
Just SO welcome is thy presence, truly ideal 
queen. 
Nobler moral standard never this vain world 
e'er knew^ 
I am forced to say thou, really, art one of 
earth's few. 

Kina ^t words of sweetest music, such thou hast 
in stow. 
Cheery smiles of sunny brightness dost thou 
daily wear; 
Many lives thou maketh lighter through this 
world of woe. 
Many hearts exclaim, "God bless thee" in 
I:- this life of care. 
In the day of separation of the false and true 

I believe thou wilt that morning be one of 
earth's few. 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 41 



ONLY A LITTLE CURL 



WRITTEN FOR A LADY FRIEND 



While a Soldier ovi the U. S. A. Transport, "Logc 
En Route to P. L 



Only a little curl of darkest hue ! 
Only these silken strands that are but few, 
Cut from amid companions where they 
grew 

A woman's glory. 
Bright glossy curl ! dear little silken tress ! 
Fond memento! no king can e'er possess 
A greater gift ; nor ever words express 

A sweeter storv. 



Ah! I received thee from the fait 'ring 

hand 
Of one I knew in far and distant land, 
When distant journey was the stern 
command 

To "boys in blue." 
Only a little curl, was my request — 
"T know not whether it be wise or best," 
She said, "but with this token may there 
rest 

A friendship true." 



42 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



ROCKED ON THE W'ATERS OF 
THE DEEP 



WRITTEN WHILE A SOLDIER, ON THE U. S. A. 
TRANSPORT "LOGAN," EN ROUTE TO P. I. 

Rocked on the waters of the deep, briney blue, 
Oft I am tossed by surging, foaming billows, too ; 
When drear skies are 'bove me, with the wind's 

thrilling sound, 
Loud roaring waters then I hear all around. 



Rocked but not gently with a mother's lulaby — 
Oh, for such rockings oft my heart heaves a sigh 
Deep as this ocean! Ah, this loved one is dead! 
On the Pacific I am rocked now, instead. 

Rocked on the waters of the blue briney deep, 
Sometimes the streaming moon and stars seem 

to weep, 
As over shining waters there seems a bright 
Flowing stream of silver tears reflecting the light. 

Rocked now amid the beauties of Nature's 
scenes ; — 

Sunrise's bright golden colors with shades be- 
tween, 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 43 

Bright streams of golden glimmers of setting sun, 
Dark shadows of the evening when day is done. 

Rocked 'mid sweet dreams of dreamland o'er 

waters' wave, 
Bright shining visions of the dear One who saves ; 
His tender care and presence on the wide deep 
Give all who know His mercy sweet, peaceful 

sleep. 

Rocked 'mid the pleasant and sweet dreams of 

the past, 
To my interior vision they come so fast 
O'er these dark waters from the land far away — 
Sweet dreams of Hfe when it was one cloudless 

day. 

Rocked, and each moment as the time passes by, 
Thus I am moving on between land and sky ; 
These weary rockings take me far, far away 
From many friends and kindreds — sad, sad to 
say! 



Rocked o'er these waters for it is the command, 
And I have pledged obedience with "upraised 

hand;" 
Far o'er these waters there is work to be done 
By many soldiers — of which I am one. 



Rocked while the saddest hearts repine, but in 
vain — 



44 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



Sighs and emotions from the hearts that remain 
Far, far behind me, yet their love I can feel 
Bound ever 'round my heart as strong hoops of 
steel ! 



Rocked, moved with rockings, o'er the waves' 

swelling tide, 
While o'er these foaming waters I slowly glide, 
Sad hearts behind me, cease — oh, cease to repine ! 
Wait for my coming from this "world o'er the 

line!" 



Rocked, but more roughly, by this world's 

swelling tides, 
Rocked by life's tempest — roughly tossed, yet, 

besides ; 
Rocked on life's ocean of the unfathomed deep, 
Rocked 'til the final day of one "lasting sleep." 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 45 



TO THE OCEAN PACIFIC 



WRITTEN WHILE A SOLDIER, ON THE U. S. A. 
TRANSPORT "LOGAN," EN ROUTE TO P. I. 



Wondrous blue and briney ocean! 

As I o'er thy bosom glide, 
Oft I watch the swaying motion 

Of thy surface far and wide. 



Peaceful ocean ! oft it seemeth 

When thou art so calm and free, 

Surely Fancy never dreameth 

Sweeter dreams than this of thee. 



When thy waves but softly tinkle 

'Neath the sun's bright, shining rays, 
Making diamond studded twinkles — 
Nature seems to stand and gaze. 



There is one thing I learn of thee, 

Though thou hast thy peaceful days, 

Oft the sky grows dark above thee, 
And thou art not calm always. 



46 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



Thou dost have thy days of trouble, 
Such as is the way of hfe, 

Days when each and every bubble 
Seems a frightful scene of strife. 



My life sometimes seems as dreary 
As thy waters ever are ; 

And my heart is oft as weary 
As a fading morning star. 



Though my life is often sadness, 
Yet, it is not always so ; 

For it has its psalm of gladness 

Mingled with its dirge of woe. 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 47 



PAUL LAWRENCE DUNBAR 



LINES WRITTEN UPON THE DEATH 
OF THIS SWEET POET-SINGER 



We were afraid that you would soon be borne 
away 
Upon the sw^eet endearing breathings of 
your heart! 
We were afraid that you would soon forget to stay 
And give to life your lofty, soulful missioned 
part! 
Too true! but — ah! the jeweled breaths with 
which you sang — 
That blew in their soft whispers o'er the 
tender strings 
Of human hearts, the sweet aeolian sounds that 
rang 
An echo as if blown from heaven's angels' 
wings — 
Still linger in the ethics of our souls! Then 
must 
We say you're dead? and can we ever for 
you weep ? 
Ah, no! amid the sacred halo o'er your dust. 

We listen to your echoed- breathing while 
you sleep! 



48 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



LITTLE GOLDEN PEN 



Written While a Soldier, at San Joaquin, Panay, P. I., 
for a Friend Who Presented Me with a Fountain Pen for 
a Birthday Present 



Little Golden Pen! 
Oh, could there from thy fountain flow, expressed 
in words, all that my heart so often 
feels ! 
But, ah! for this I know not how to guide or 
e'en diier^t thee! 
Thy donor, venerable and hale, hath due the 
praise for which there never can be 
words — 
Then it is vain to try to say what language 
cannot let me. 



Little Golden Pen ! 
Since thou art with me now — a souvenir — a 
token of a friendship tried and true, 
Thou, surely, canst e'er render me invaluable 
assistance ; 
When wing expressive thoughts to dwell with me, 
my hand will guide thee while thy 
fountain flows 
Upon some page where friends may read 
when I've no more existence. 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 49 



TO ONE OF THE BRAVE 



Written While a Soldier, at Fort Washakie, Wyo., for 
First Sergeant William Barnes, Troop "F," loth Caval- 
ry, on the Occasion of His Forty-Fifth Birthday 



Though forty-five long years, you say, 
Have silvered o'er your head with gray, 
Your friends rejoice, to-day, that you 
Stand hale and hearty in your "blue." 

Long for Old Glory you have stood 
With truest sense of brotherhood; 
Long may you live a useful life — 
Noble and true in peace or strife. 



50 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



THE NEW^ LEAF 



WRITTEN WHILE A SOLDIER, AT FORT 
WASHAKIE, WYO., NEW YEAR's DAY, 1903 

On this page of my life's hist'ry, with the help of 

God I'll make 
Brighter, truer, nobler record — strive to follow 

Jesus' wake. 

Thus I'll make my life more useful, with an 

influence strong to win 
Many who are daily drifting in the way of death 

and sin. 



In my journey o'er life's ocean, Jesus, Savior, 

pilot me 
Let thy beacon light of wisdom ever true my 

guidance be. 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 51 



**EVER FAITHFUL TO YOU" 

DEDICATED TO A LADY FRIEND 
Written While a Soldier at Fort Washakie, Wyo. 

When e'er I read these words, Dear Heart, of 

your sweet valentine, 
I'm sure no heart can ever feel a sweeter joy than 

mine. 



"Faithful!" no word can e'er express a truer, 

greater love — 
No tmer constancy than this have angels up 

above ! 



"Ever!" ah, then eternally you pledge that 

you'll be true! 
For love's sweet sake, alone, I choose a happy 

life with you. 



Through every sorrow, joy or pain that we in 

life may meet, 
In sweet companionship we'll share — the bitter 

with the sweet. 



52 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



We'll live these words of faithfulness, what e'er 

our lot may be, 
And live that we may after death from earthly 

stains be free. 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 53 



THE SUNLIGHT OF TEMPERANCE 



Afar it gleams its glowing light, 
And wafts its golden beams 

From lofty heights that know no night, 
From realms that know no dreams. 



Within the home its glist'ning^rays 
Delight each loving heart ; 

They sweeten life with joyous days, 
And blissful peace impart. 

They place upon the mother's face 
The smiles of brightest day, 

They give the wife her charming grace. 
They light the children's play. 

They give to life its noble worth, 
They sweeten every breath ; 

They find true pleasures here on earth, 
And smile and welcome death. 



54 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



THE DRINK SLAVE 



Poor Slave ! 
Great flowing streams of pity's tears 
And anguish's sobbing bitter cries, 
Are now before your blinded eyes, 
Groan in your dizzy, deafened ears! 
Poor Slave ! 



Poor Slave ! 
The silver threads of years bow low 
In token of the prayers that rise 
From breaking hearts of wasted sighs- 
For you who take this drink of woe ! 
Poor Slave ! 



Poor Slave ! > 

The love that once you counted sweet \ 

Now of yourself is not a part ! ] 

The soulless pulses of your heart i 

Now liiaster vou from head to feet ! l 

^ Poor Slave! ! 



Poor Slave ! 
The touch of baby's tender hands 

Once found within your heart's re- 
spond — 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 55 

But, now — alas! your sacred bond 
Of love you do not understand ! 
Poor Slave! 



Poor Slave! 
Give back to life the love you owe ! 

O, break this chain of loveless death! 
O, will a life of temperate breath ! 
O, leave this cup of nameless woe! 
Poor Slave! 



56 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



'LOOKING FOR W^ORK" 



The wheel of Time turns slowly o'er and o'er, 
The hand of Wealth revels but more and more 
In happy comforts and the joyous fill 
Of pleasures such as it alone instills. 

But, now, a grave foot-sore procession's tread 
Falls, as a funeral march upon the dead, 
On many heedless ears that hear its cries, 
And many thoughtless hearts that hear its 
sighs. 

Yea, heedless of the hunger and the pains 
That steal away the spirit of these brains; 
Yea, thoughtless even of the starving wives 
Now weeping in the background of these lives 1 

Yea, heedless of the bowed heads"of gray, 
And thoughtless of the spoiled children's play 
That're hidden in the voice at your door 
That only asks for work and nothing more ! 

Yea, heedless of the love that is, indeed, 
Now hidden in this life of darkened need; 
Yea, thoughtless of the fatal stroke of death 
Now hidden in this feeble, pleading breath! 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 57 



Perchance, 'tis now you hear the last attempt 
Of Sad Despair with every joy exempt! 
O, World give now the living that you owe, 
That these may something of your comforts 
know ! 



58 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



THE DEBTOR 



Bowed beneath the dead'ning weight of 



fcu 



Woe 

Crawling 'neath the gaUing 3^oke of Owe 
ObHgation's hand 
Beats him with his wand, 

And his restless bed his burden knows ! 



'Neath stern Justice's ever grinding heels, j 

In Debt's prison now he sadly kneels ; i 

Fettered with Due's claim, i 

Pilloried with shame ! \ 

And no tongue can tell the pain he feels. ] 

■\ 
Fortunate is he if now he bear j 

i 



Not a greater burden than this care;- 

If his soul is free 

From sin's misery 
He may work 'til life again is fair. 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 59 



A DEDICATION 



TO PRINCIPAL BOOKER T. WASHINGTON OF 
TUSKEGEE INDUSTRIAL SCHOOL 



To you who now so nobly do 

A noble deed ; 
Who now instill the virtues true 

To virtuous need; 
Whose mission is so truly good — 
So full of kindly brotherhood — 
Who live the life you surely should- 

A trusty lead ; 

Who early saw that skillful head 

And skillful hands 
Should, surely, be in union wed 

'Gainst life's quicksands — 
For people whose unhappy state 
Was, surely, in the hands of fate, 
Would make a combination great 

As iron bands. 



Long may your daring presence live 

And works instill. 
Long may your kingly reasons give 

A forceful will. 



6o VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



Long may your glowing, useful days 
Shine forth their bright illuming rays, 
And give to gloomy lives always 
A happy thrill. 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 6i 



THE HAND THAT GUIDES THE 

PLOW IS THE HAND THAT 

RULES THE \^ORLD 



Perched upon the beam above the plowshare, 
Gath'ring from the soil o'er which she glides 

Food and many other cheery comforts — 
For she has a sure and trusty guide ; 

Busy with her many occupations: — 

Playing with the lightning of the clouds, 

Peeping at the great and lofty planets, 

Solving darkened mystery's misty shrouds; 

Pealing sweetest music o'er her mountains, 
Shouting now the lyrics of the brave ; 

Learning all the mighty Laws of Nature — 

Seeking e'en a "why" for death and grave; 



Proudly does she polish precious metals — 
Hoping e'en to make a brighter hue — 

Donning pretty fashions gay in splendor — 

Rainbow's, sunset's dress and ocean's blue. 



Dancing with the glee of childish pleasures 
Thoughtless in her love of City's whirl 
Moves the world with pomp and pride — 



62 VOICES OF SOLITUDE \ 



Oft she scorns to be the bride 

At her benefactor's side, 

But the hand that guides the plow 

Is the hand that moves the WORLD. 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 63 



TOUSSAINT L'OUVERTURE 



To learn the great achievements in the epics of 

your Hfe, 
Or to learn the noble story of your victory- 

sworded strife ; 
To learn the supernatural feat with which you 

struck slave-free — 
How the Spaniard, French and English bled and 

groaned about your knee — 
We only need to go to Hayti — France — where 

once you trod, 
And Hsten to the story of the hearts beneath the 

sod! 



We need not mock Old Hist'ry for the light he 
failed to catch 

From the lustrous streak of glory that o'er- hung 
your cottage thatched ; 

We know this cunning artist's white heroes are 
painted with 

Honors; but, he oft forgets the shaded counte- 
nance of myth. 

The dotted pages of no book can breathe your 
spotless fame — 

For 'tis written in the *' Milky Way" that marks 
your noble name. 



64 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



Soldier and statesman, brave and true, unlearned 

of book's device — 
Soul-taught alone, your heart proclaimed, 

" Freedom at any price!" 
Words feebly shadow forth the vim that heaved 

your noble breast — 
We leave these for the sunbeams' crowns! — to 

grace your sleeping rest ! 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 65 



SAN FRANCISCO'S 18th OF APRIL 
(1906) 



<< * * * y0 shall hear of wars and rumors of wars, * * * 
nation shall rise against nation, and kingdom against 
kingdom: and there shall be earthquakes in divers places, 
and there shall be famines and troubles: these are the be- 
ginnings of sorrows." — St. Mark, xiii, 7-8 



"O, what an awful, awful dream!" A dream? O, 
sleepy head! 
Arouse! arouse! electric brain, from this 

delusive sleep ! 
Open your eyes upon a truth that churns 
the ocean deep! 
That splits asunder even now the mighty 
mountain's bed! 



O, sleepy eyes, look and behold yon reeling 
mass of steel! 
Yon track-laid paves of broken stones now 

writhing in their speach 
Of mighty forces great and strong that they 
are bound to teach! 
Ears, 'wake and hear their message, too! heart, 
drink the trvith you feel ! 



66 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



Hark! what is that? — O, fire! fire! our city is 
wrap'd in flames! 
The leaping flames whose awful breath 

bloweth death so deeply wrought 
With scorched sounds of human cries; and, 
of mercy beareth naught ! 
Who stamps Life's faces with its brand of crisp — 
unknown names. 



The Unseen Hand! let us believe, in spite of every 
cant 
About the science that's proclaimed does 

these great shocking deeds; 
Life- Words' great prophecies we see ful- 
filling as they read — 
All of their deep, mysterious truths we must in 
wonder grant. 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 67 



AN ODE TO THE CHRISTIAN 
MARTYRS 



In humble reverence and Christian love 

Before the Greatest of them all we bow, 

Likewise before the Father of this One ! 

We see the greatness of this mighty love — 

The giving of an only Son to die 

A martyr for the cause of sin ! We view 

The cruel thorns upon His sacred brow, 

And crimson streams e'en trickling from their 

wounds ! 
We hear the hands of buffeters against 
His face; the cruel, ringing hammers' sound 
Upon the nails that pierce His hands and feet ! 
We praise Him for the faith and mighty strength 
That He hath given to the noble host 
Of martyrs who have followed Him, and shown 
The priceless jewel of His love, so bright 
And shining to the world! Grim Death canst 

bear 
No sting of terror for such noble hearts ! 
I now in mem'ry of these sacred hves. 
Dare this, the veiled shadow of a song. 
With just the hope that it may mingle with 
The whispers of the soft and gentle breeze 
That hover o'er the halo of their graves! 



68 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



A MEMORIAL 



IN MEMORY OF FREDERICK DOUGLASS. 



In mem'ry of your truly noble life ; 

In mem'ry of the cause for which you 
fought ; 
In mem'ry of your fierce and bitter strife ; 

In mem'ry of the lasting good you 
wrought ; 

In mem'ry of the talents, really great, 

That found a home within your massive 
brains. 
And swayed the thousands of each town and 
State 
Who heard your forceful oratory strains; 

I offer now these simple words of praise — 

This chord I touch to sound your honor's 
due — 
The pathway of your truly useful days 

Shines now a grand and brilliant light for 
you. 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 69 



LIFE'S DAY 



MORNING 



Aurora's dawning veil reveals 
A glimpse of 'wak'ning Day 

Who opes his eyes upon the world 
In a curious, wond'ring way. 

Strange faces 'round about he sees 
With eyes of truthful vow ; 

Fond fingers fan away the cares 
Before they reach his brow. 

The twitter of the early birds, 
The freshness of the breeze, 

The scent of Fairy's flowers, and 
The blossoms of the trees ; 

The clatter of the busy world. 

The lurings of the sea 
Soon lead him forth, on hands and knees, 

To see what these things be. 

Vain butterflies before him flit — 

He rises in his glee 
To trip, fall, rise 'mid worlds of books 

And Nature's misery. 



70 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



NOON 



A feast of wholesome literature ; 

Deserts of sweet love coos, 
And pleasures such as oft he finds 
Digestion brings distress of mind 

And storming clouds of blues. 



EVENING 



His dimming eye now faint reveals 
A world that changes, too. 

Bright flowers vanished from the fields- 
The leaves all colored new 



The happy thoughts of morn's bright 
hours, 

And thoughtless moments' sting, 
Awake afresh to give him joy 

And painful reasoning. 



The dreary, tardy hours creep 
Into his bending frame ; 

Upon a cane his waning weight 
He places, without shame. 



The shades of night he plainly sees 
Faint twilight gleams afar ; 

His brighter hopes grow brighter still 
At the sight of each new star. 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 71 



They seem to plainly speak to him, 

" A good fight you've fought, 
Upon your crown we all shall shine 
As you have oft been taught." 

The closing scene now shows a smile 
Upon his beaming face. 

And closes now his eyes to ope 
Within the "better place." 



7 2 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



PANTHEON 



The heaven and its glories bright above ; \ 

The earth with Nature's beauties here below; i 

The wondrous light of day and veiling shades i 

Of night ; the glowing sun ; the fiick'ring moon ; | 

The lofty planets and the tiny stars ; j 

The eagle up amid the cloudy mists ; ;i 

The little fish down in the whirling deep ; ii 

The wisdom's treasures of the very myth i 

Of Time ; the best that ever will — or can i 

E'er nestle in the very purest soul ] 

Of Thine own imaged man — lo, all is Thine! \ 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 73 



A MAJOR CHORD 



JOY 



Hail Fair Elixir of the heart and mind! 

Hail Bright Cajoler for the good of life! 
Your presence gives to all the sweetest kind 

Of happiness, amid the world of strife. 



FRIENDSHIP 



Twin sister to your fairer sister, Love, 

But with a sweetness truly all your own 

You bind your hearts with golden thoughts ; 
and all 
Are pure; no one is base — a perfect tie. 



SORROW 



Sad Friend, when e'er you creep into our 
lives 
We do not often greet you with a smile. 
But, still, we know 'tis thus the Lord con- 
trives 
To chasten — yet, He loves the while. 



PURITY 



White with the snowdrifted bleaching of 
Good Deeds. 



74 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 

Bright with the sunlit glowing of Pure 

Thought; 
Sad with the sight of Pity's sorrowing needs, 
Glad with the hope of blessings inward 

wrought. 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 75 



A MINOR CHORD 



VANITY 



Vain Pride, Conceit; vain love of Fond Display! 
Vain pleasures of the world that cannot stay 
To be our guide when we'll a guidance need 
To cheer us through Death's Night of darkened 
deed. 



FAITHLESSNESS 



Untrue to self, and e'en to love untrue! 
Yea, false in words and false in actions, too! 
Great lives are ruined by your sad untruth; 
Great souls are blackened by your life — forsooth! 

PITY 

O, Plaintive Softener of Hard'n'd Hearts! 
Your mission is, in truth, a one of need; 
The tender sympathies which you impart 
To life is one of noble worth, indeed! 

HATRED 

Hatred, thou art the bitter foe of love ! 
The petrifying hardener of hearts ! 



76 VOICES OF SOLITUDE I 

'i 
.)] 

The cruel thrust of Anger's murd'rous blade ! ) 

The strangling grasp of Vengeance's mere 'less | 

hand ! i 

The deadly venom of Jealousy's sweetened cup! | 

The fatal blow of heartless Envy's club ! : 

The mortal wound of Guilty Pleasure's plan! \ 

The darkness that declines to see the light ! \ 

The wrong that e'er declines to know the right! ,! 

The hopeless drift that leads to sinful death ! \ 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 77 



TIME'S CHORD 

YESTERDAY 



Thou hideth in thy bosom many sweets 

Of joyous past that we so much adore; 

And many tears of sorrow at thy feet 

We dropt to thy farewell — forevermore! 



TO-DAY 



Thy flitting moments dance before our eyes, 

And beg that we would wreathe into a crown 

Their jeweled forms — so like the starry skies — 
To make for us an emblem of renown. 



TO MORROW 



O, sphinx of time, thou flit'h from day to day, 
Eluding our every grasp — so much 

As butterflies caress the many gay 

Sweet flowers, yet evade bright childhood's 
touch. 



ETERNITY 



O, mighty and infinite space of time! 

O, shrouded myth of hopeful mystery! 
O, glorious light for righteousness, sublime! 

O, utter darkness for sin's misery! 



78 VOICES OF SOLITUDE .j 



SHARPS AND FLATS 



REMORSE j 

Bitter pang of sin, I 

Painful sleeplessness! j 

Dart of bleeding life within, ] 

Excruciating stress! \ 

DISCOURAGEMENT 1 

1 

Smotherer, strangler, slayer of hearts! ! 

Coercer of ambition — lo, living death thou art! j 



FEAR 

Scare, quiver and quake; 

Stare, shiver and shake; 

A heartless breathlessness you are- 

A joyless life you make! 

SHAME 

Guilty sin of heavy head 

And drooping eyes ! 
Evaded gaze of sad regret 

And heaving sighs ! 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 79 



A DIRGE TO ANCIENT ROME 



O, Rome! thy flaming annals even scorch 

Our searching view! Yea, e'en the breath 

(A lava of corruption, cruel vice, 

Gross irreligion, sensuality), 

Of all thy murd'rous tyrants fall 

Upon the ethics of our very souls 

And sadly wounds us! yea, it even makes 

Us shudder in our dreams ! 

O, Rome! Rome! 
Why didst not thou, for pity, only keep 
From us the knowledge's pain that even such 
Base sins could ever form the faintest part 
Of human hves? For always in our search 
For thy bright talents — law, philosophy, 
Grand architectural arts, the jeweled breaths 
Of literature — we have to clear away 
The putrifying carcasses of sin — 
The murd'rous work of bloody daggers' thrusts, 
By hands of Envy, Hatred, Pride, Contempt, 
Ingratitude, Dehumaned Pleasure, Fear, 
Degeneracy, Insatiatety, Dislike, 
Debauchery, Ambition, Madness, Fame, 
Mad Pagan Antichristianity, Disdain, 
The Siren's Love, Hereditary Vice! 
The reasons of a serious thinking mind 
Canst not perform a task so sore unclean 



8o VOICES OF SOLITUDE 

Without returning to its fond abode 
And bringing dizzy tremors to the soul ! 



Thy Claudius quakes our very souls with fear ; 
Tiberius even haunts our dreams at night ! 
Caligula! Our hearts e'en squirm within! 
Nero ! His name 's breath bears his poisoned sins ! 



Yet, when our search is finally all done, 
And at thy grave we view thy ruined heap, 
We see thy talents' virtues with true light 
And close thy mausoleum lid of past. 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 8i 



THE DOVE 

Once upon a bright spring morning, 

When the world seemed at its best — 
Filled with sweetly scented flowers, 

Azure skies from east to west — 
I was walking 'mid the breezes 

That were blowing 'round about, 
Fining all the blood within me 

With its glowing, rich redoubt 
'Gainst disease and all its kindred; 

And I felt that in each beat 
Of my pulse was throbbed a pleasant 

Thinking mood from head to feet. 
Then I heard the plaintive voice 

Of a dove — so soft and low — 
All its tinv heart seemed mourning: 

"O----0! O! 0! O o! O o!" 



Little mourning bird," I answered, 

" How can you, to-day, be sad 
While the world now seems so happy, 

And the flowers seem so glad? 
And the merry bees are buzzing, 

And the butterflies are gay ; 
And the breeze that bears your mournings 

Wafts the fragrance of the hay? 



82 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



And the glimmers of the sunbeams 

On your shining plumage rest, 
Seeking now to learn the secret 

That is hidden in your breast ! 
All are guessing for a reason 

That we think could make you mourn, 
For we think no heart among us 

Should be happier than your own. 
Still while yet we sit and ponder, * 

For the truth we'd like to know, 
You repeat your onlv answer;" 
'"O o! O! O! O o!0 o!'" 



"Can it be you know the suf 'rings 

Of the world with death and sin? 
Can it be 3^ou know the sorrows 

Of the clashing battle's din? 
Can it be you know the shameful 

Stalking of the monster. Wrong? 
Can you see the sad oppression 

Of the weakhngs by the strong? 
Is it true you've not forgotten 

How a flood did once destroy 
All the people who were wicked — 

Who had made of sin a joy? 
Can it be you see the murderer 

As he goes about his work; 
Can it be you hear the clashing 

Of his deadly, cruel dirk? 
Can you see the suicides leaping 

From the brinks of sad despair — 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 83 



From a life of sinful torture, 

And a life of burdened care? 

If you hear and know these wailings, 
And can feel the same, also, 

I know why you sit in mourning:" 
"'O o! O! O! O o!0 o!' 



84 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



VOICES OF THE WAVES 



WRITTEN WHILE A SOLDIER, ON U. S. A. TRANS- 
PORT "SHERMAN, "returning TO U. S. 

Gay, rolling mists, now leaping in your play 
A foaming, splashing, white and shining spray; 
'Tis oft I stand and feast my eyes on you. 
And watch your gentle, swaying field of blue! 

But, as I stand and look methinks I hear 
The voices of your throbbing Pulses stir. 
As gurgling through the veins of all your thought 
They whisper now your hist'ry — sadly wrought 
With wasted loves and battles' crimsoned floods; 
With sad despair and wreckaged-scattered 
bloods ! 



With maiden's honor and with woman's sighs; 
With youth's ambitions and with man's devise; 
With secret follies and with mother's prayers; 
With dizzy pleasures and with burdened cares' 

With blood-stained glitters of the pirate's gold; 
With wealth ill-gotten that is 3^et untold — 
Is this, in truth, your story, surging waves? 
Are all these secrets hidden in your grave? 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 85 



THE MISER 



Bowed in shameful reverence of gold, 

Quaking with the fear of sudden theft ; 

Groping with the blinded weight untold 

Of soulless love and yellow-hearted 
quest. 

Starving with the husks of meanly fare, 
Feasting on the glitter of his hoard ; 

Clothed with the rags of worthless wear — 
Shiv'ring fireless oft in his abode. 

Oft there 're others, too, who share this life. 
And hear his lie of poverty each day — 

Children, an only daughter — or a wife 

Weep with the suf'rings that his gold 
could stay ! 

Foolish man ! We pity you. We know 

The glitter of your gold that now you 
see — 

Alas! some day you'll leave it here, and go 
Crushed by its weight, into eternity! 



86 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



THE SPENDTHRIFT 



Tripping the time of his frivolous heart, 

Playing in life a ridiculous part, ; 

Foolish with money and thoughtless with I 

health, ! 

Careless with love and indifferent with \ 

wealth ; | 

Heedlessly racing away from advice, j 

Reveling in pleasures more evil than nice; ! 

Giddily pacing a dizzy pursuit i 
Of squandering measures of shameful repute 

Treating e'en lightly life's serious scenes, 

While gaily discarding his valuable means ; ! 

Crazed with Vanity's teachings of fun, 1 

The sorrows of life and its joys are one. | 

Merrily laughing when, really, he should cry ' 
Enriching the vices that surely should die; 

Trifling away many comforts so sweet : 
For which the sad paupers now cry in the 

street ! 



'Tis a blessing to him when his money is 
spent. 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 87 



Then if he consider and thoroughly repent ; 
For if his gay heart in atonement he'll give 
He'll surely be taught how he really should 
live. 



88 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



ANITA 



WRITTEN WHILE A SOLDIER IN 
MANILLA, P. I. AN ACTUAL CASE 

Far out in the dreamy ocean, by Nature's beauty 

planned, 
Lie the Islands of the Philippines — the Flower 

Blossom Land — 
With flow'rs that seem most surely blown by the 

rainbow's magic wand. 

Their shores are kissed by the foaming waves 
that race from the dancing seas, 

As lambs that frolic in their play to their bound- 
ing gay hearts' ease — 

They wash the Sand-beach's feet to see just how 
much they can tease. 

Tall, massive, sturdy trees here stand, great 

sentinels of might, 
That seem to do their faithful watch so bravely 
•"V;< day and night; 
One sees in these undaunted forms a sermon for 

the right. 

The glowing brightness of the sun ; the chyming 
of the streams ; 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 89 



The whispers of the leafy trees as the breezes 

pass — It seems 
That Nature gives one here a touch of all her 

fairy dreams. 

There seems to be a misty spell o'er all the world 

above 
And all below — and all around — I wonder if it's 

love! 
And if it is the "sweety" kind that poets oft 

write of! 



There lived in this bright picture-land, not many 

years ago, 
A native maid; I'll try to make her lovely 

picture show 
Before your eyes, for I am sure that you fair 

beauty know. 



Anita was this maiden's name — her people called 

her "Nete," 
And th' love they showered over her to her was 

always sweet; 
Her happy heart shone in her hands and dainty 

little feet. 

It seems as if the chestnut came and begged its 

leave to place 
Within the dimples of her cheeks and o'er her 

pretty face 
Its richest hue, that it might here receive her 

smiling grace. 



90 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



The moonbeams gave their streaming light to her 

dark and wond'ring eyes, 
They seemed to cast a flick'ring light twixt love 

and fond surprise 
One moment then the next they'd droop as a 

v/ounded pansy dies. 

But, of every touch of Nature's hand that made 
this beauty fair. 

The greatest glory of them all was clustered in 
her hair — 

A blending of the sunbeams' gold and th' flow- 
ing midnight air. 

Anita loved a soldier boy, a colored youth called 

Bob, 
A soldier in her land. He heard a love sigh in 

each sob 
When she lisped his name the best she could — a 

tiny little "Vob." 

At first Bob seemed as true in love as duty's 

soldier boy ; 
They were both happy day by day — but not w4th 

lasting joy! 
For when Bob learned of her great love he made 

her heart his toy. 

Time brought to Bob these sorrowing words 

"To America you'll return" — 
Now on his cheeks Anita's tears fell fast; and 
seemed to burn 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 91 



Their way into his dizzy brains! — Can he such 
love e'er spurn? 



Oh! take me to your dear homeland, "querido," 

will you, please? 
I love you and I want to go with you o'er land or 

seas!" 
"I'll take you with me home, my Love," Bob 

smilingly agrees. 



"Let's go before the altar, dear, within your 

holy church, 
For there alone can e'er we find the tie for which 

we search; 
Let's fly into one little nest on Love's exalted 

perch." 



"O, is this, really, true, now, Vob? — oh! say 

when may we go 
Before the altar in the church that we, by this, 

may show 
The love we've cherished now so long and must 

so surely know?" 



Bob named the day, then in her eyes he saw her 

happy heart, 
But, lo ! the day he named to v/ed was his evasive 

art. 
For on the day before he knew his home-boat 

would depart. 



92 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



Time brought, at last, Anita's day and found her 

all prepared — 
And at her windowFall the day she stood and 

looked and stared ; 
But, Bob ne'er came to greet her there — and e'en 

the waves were sad! 



Bob tried to cheer his murm'ring heart while 

sailing home that day: — 
"O, well, I could not marry th' girl," he bravely 

tried to say 
But his heart rose up and choked his words in a 

Strang 'ling kind of way. 

" Come eat your porridge, *Nete,' my dear, 'tis 

plain this man has lied." 
" No, no, mama! O, no, papa! I cannot eat," she 

cried, 
"I'll wait for 'Vob,' he'll, surely, come to claim 

me for his bride." 



Day after day Anita stood and looked, but 

would not eat ! 
Grief crept into her dark blue veins and coursed 

from head to feet ; 
He stole her breaths of beauty that had graced 

her village street ; 

And stole the moonlight from her eyes and fixed 

dark pools, instead, 
Of tears so deep and still that shone a tint of 

evening's red — 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 93 



Also, the cruel sorrow, too, by which her life was 
fed. 



He chased the chestnut shades away and gave 

them to the seas ; 
He stole the roundings of her cheeks and flung 

them to the breeze ; 
And being thus so shorn of strength she sank 

upon her knees. 

Thus was she found by Time, who came and 

brought his servant, too. 
Death, and he bade him, "Gently take this 

broken hearted, true 
And saddened, wasted love away to blossom in a 

new 
And better world! away from life that's now to 

her so blue!" 



"Oh, 'Nete,' please speak to us once more! we 

cannot let you go!" 
Her mother, father, brothers, cried — "Don't 

leave us, love — oh, no!" 
Her spirit dropped, now, in its flight, her whisper 

" *Vob,' vouknow!" 



94 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



AN ELEGY TO JOHN BRO^^N 

(The Would-be Liberator) 

vSleep on! 
True martyr for your principle of right ! 

True hero of the cause for which you 
fought ! 
True life of lofty, grand, courageous might! 
Sincerity with manly motives fraught ! 
Sleep on! 

Sleep on! 
Your grand and noble presence here is done, 
Your noble heart revolted for sweet 
peace! 
Your noble march to victory was won 

When from embittered life you smiled 
release ! 

Sleep on! 

Sleep on! 
Your choice was death! none would your 
life enthrall ! 
You struck for liberty for all your clan ' 
Your enemies e'en at your scaffold's fall 

Looked and declared, "Here is in 
truth, a man!" 
Sleep on! 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



THE TREASURED CURL 

How dear to my heart is this tress which I trea- 
sure! 
Such fond recollections it brings to my 
mind : 
I think of the dear loving fingers that cut it — 
The donor so gentle — so noble and kind. 

Ah! sweet were the moments I passed in her 
presence, 
While roaming through woodland so happy 
were we ; 
0, how I admired those dear silken tresses! 

She knew it, and kindly gave this one to me. 

So lovely and bright were the trees of the forest, 
So green were the leaves with the flowers in 
bloom; 
Fair Nature had clothed the dear woodland with 
grandeur — 
Together we scented its fragrant perfume. 

It seems I now see her all laden with flowers, 

And hear her sweet nightingale voice soft 
and low 
In silvery ripples re-echoing the forest, 



96 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



As sweetly she sang the dear songs I well 
know, 



O, Alice, dear Alice, oft now do I see you, 

In love's sweetest dreams I behold your 
sweet face! 
But when I awake I have naught to console me — 
Ah ! naught but this curl with its beauty and 
grace ! 



Ah ! when comes the day that I lifeless am lying— 
My soul then departed forever to rest — 

When friends are preparing my body for burial 
Oh, may this dear treasure be placed on my 
breast ! 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 97 



UNCLE IKE'S OPINION OF WIN- 
TERPOCK'S COLLEGE 

WRITTEN FOR THE ORGANIZER OF 
A COUNTRY INDUSTRIAL SCHOOL 

Hab yer heahed 'bout dat norm'l schuul dat dey 

is tryin' ter start? — 
De white fo'ks calls de black man a fool, but now 

he's gwine ter be smart. 

At Winterpock is whah dey's tryin' ter hab dis 

schuul located, 
F'om what I heahed I fink dey's gwine ter hab it 

des as stated. 

Dat Rebrent Tyler ober dar is gittin up dis plan, 
Tell yer de trufe, I see des Avhah dat 'twill be 
mouty gran'. 

I heah dey's gwine ter fix it so de scarlars ken 

larn er trade — 
Sich as carp'nter, blacksmiff an' sheenest, yer 

kno' dey '11 be smart wid dat in der hades. 

F'om what I heahed de tother day de charges 
gwine ter be small — 



98 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



I tell yer what, de}' re'ly say, six dollers er munt 
is all. 

Besize dey'U take yer butter an' aiggs as he'p 

in payin' debill, 
An' I spose ef yer poot up sum taters in kaigs, an' 

grap'l some tunnups out de kil', 

An' sen' dem ober ter de manager 'would make 

de bir more small; 
Den when we sells our backer we could, certny, 

pay it all. 

Dey say we wont hab ter dres' our chilluns in 

finery an' sich stuff, 
But de cloth we gits free yahds fer er shillin' will 

be des good ernuff. 

I finks dat p'int is mouty fine, kase yer kno' dat 

we aint able 
Ter dres' our chilluns in ebery kine of fin'ry dat 

is costful. 



I specks ter sen' my gal ober dar, sho as I's two 

foot hi' — 
Dat gal, I tell ^-^er, br'er Cezar, gwine ter be 

sup'n bime bime. 

She's fah f'om bein' er fool rite now — I tell yer 
dat fing ternite — 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 99 



She's always cerreckin me somehow, an' sez I 
doan tahk des rite. 



Whehoo! I didn't fink dat 'twas so late! 'tis ten 

by dat clock dar; 
I orter bin gone at eny rate — so good nit<^, br'er 

Cezar. 

L.orc 



loo VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



FADED LEAVES 



Now the days are growing colder, 
As each day the year grows older ; 
Seared grass with frost is white — 
Summer now is out of sight , 

And the faded leaves are falling. 

Now the days seem melancholly 
As we think of things so jolly 
That have faded from our sight — 
But 'mid thoughts of things so bright 
Are the faded leaves now faUing. 

Just as leaves we all are fading, 
Just as leaves do now cease shading 
All must go — aye, one and all — 
The rich and poor, the great and small 
As the faded leaves now falling. 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE loi 



CHRISTMAS MORN 



Come wake up and sing, "All hail to the King," 

aurora is dawning the sky ; 
Rejoice and be glad, let no one be sad, let " Peace 

and good will be our cry." 

Ye people be gay for this is the day that Jesus, 

our Savior, was born ; 
O! let the bells ring, and may we all sing sweet 

praise and thanksgiving this morn. 



I02 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



* I LOVE YOU, TOO" 

WRITTEN WHILE A SOLDIER, 
AT FORT WASHAKIE, WYO. 

One afternoon of May's sweet gift, when all the 

world w^as gay 
With singing birds and humming bees and 

flowers' bright array, 
I sat beside the girl I love of all the world the 

best, 
And held her hand most tenderly, and thus my 

love confessed : 
"O, Alice dear, you are, indeed, my first and 

only love! 
"The truth of this is known to God and angels up 

above!" 
O, how my heart did leap with joy, sweet, serene 

and true. 
As in a voice sweet and low she said. " I love you, 

too." 



REFRAIN 

" I love you, too ! I love you, too ! The angels 

know 'tis true ! 
"I am so glad you do love me, because I love 

you, too!" 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 103 



The music of her loving voice was so sweet to me, 
As thus she spoke so tenderly these words in true 

love's key. 
Long years have passed since that bright day, 

but ne'er will I forget 
The one so fair who won my heart — for, O, I 

love her, yet! 
I love her, yet, and ever will while 'tis I breathe 

in life, 
No happiness will e'er be mine 'till I may call her 

wife! 
Long years I've passed away from her, clad in 

my country's blue, 
But, soon I'm going back to her who said^ "I 

love you, too." 



104 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



HAVE I DONE WRONG? 



WRITTEN WHILE A SOLDIER 
AT FORT CLARK, TEXAS 



Father says that he is sorry that I choose a 
soldier's Hfe, 
And he says he feels as if I now am dead ; 
In the letters from my sister there is oft a doleful 
strain — 
Though she tries her best at cheerfulness, 
instead. 
Brother said when last I left him that "the idea 
is absurd," 
Saying "Army life is not for such as you;" 
I have letters from my friends in which they ask 
the question thus — 
"Tell us why you joined the U. S. 'boys in 
blue?' " 
Have I done wrong, father, sister, brother, 

friends and kindred dear ? 
Have I done wrong, O God of heaven? Am I 
wrong? Should I be here? 

I have letters from the "fair sex" asking, "Is it 
really, true?" 
And the dearest of them all pleads " O, come 
back!" 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 105 



For she says she cannot bear it, since I am so far 
away, 
Yet, for years I must remain away — sad 
fact! 
And she asks me if I'll leave her there so long a 
weeping girl, 
For she says this cruel grief gnaws her sad 
heart ; 
And she tells me all the sunshine of her life has 
vanished now 
Since it is we are so sadly far apart. 
Have I done wrong, O father, sister, brother, 

friends and sweetheart dear? 
Have I done wrong, O God of heaven? Am I 
,.^^, wrong? Should I be here ? 



10 6 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



A DIVIDED LOVE 



I'm feeling sad to-night, love, and I cannot rest 
in bed; 
Sleep has fled far from my eyes of misty 
tears. 
Why is it I'm unhappy? though your love for me 
you've said — 
Ah, there comes to me the bitter thought of 
years ! 

REFRAIN 

vSad will I wander where e'er I go! 
My love will ever dwell with you, I 

know; 
An undivided love is what I crave, 
But to my heart such love you will not 

give. 

Though you love me and confess it there's 
another one, you know, 
Whom you tell me has a claim within your 
heart ; 
O'er these words I oft have pondered, and 
although it pains me so 
It is plain that we must ever live apart ! 

Though my heart will never cease to beat in love 
for you, my pet, 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 107 

And a happy life I wish you from my heart ; 
To another's arms I yield you with a longing, 

sad regret ! 
Ah, farewell, "first love" if we must Uve 

apart ! 



io8 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



MY FATHER'S LETTER 



WRITTEN WHILE A SOLDIER, 
AT FORT CLARK, TEXAS. 

I've a letter from my father. 

And it is a doleful one — 
Sad, for, I must say, it is his 

First to me, his soldier son. 

REFRAIN 

Father, do not grieve about me, for I do not fear 
teps the gun ; 

Fwill do my duty bravely while I'm now your 
soldier son. 

When I left my home in springtime 
I ne'er thought of enlistment, 

But when last I wrote my father 
You can guess the news I sent. 

"My Dear Son" — thus he commences, 

" I have just received your news 
"Be you ever true and faithful 

"Since it is this life you choose. 

" Son, to tell the truth, I must say 
"I now feel as if you're dead; 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 109 



"And must ever have this feeling 

" 'Til you're home again," he said. 

"Many of your friends are grieving, 
"Bitter tears fill many eyes 

* ' For these strange and sudden tidings 
"Give us all a great surprise. 

" Son My Dear, do not cease praying, 

"Pray and be both kind and brave: 

"Pray that you may live forever 

"In the life beyond the grave." 



no VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



THANKSGIVING 



WRITTEN WHILE A SOLDIER, AT LEON", 
PANAY,P. I., THANKSGIVING DAY, 19O1, 



O, Lord above, my prayer to Thee 
Is that my heart, to-day, may be 
Clothed in sincere humiUty 
And tuned with pure thanksgiving. 



REFRAIN 

Thanks, thanks, to Thee — O, thanks, to Thee! 
Dear Lord, to-day, my song is thanks, thanks, 
to Thee ! 

So many thanks now crowd my mind 
No words to tell them can I find, 
But, Thou who art so good and kind 
Dost know my heart's thanksgiving. 

Then, as my heart, to-day, dost speak- 
The contrite heart Thou hath made meek- 
Accept these thanks though faint and 

weak. 
Yet, they are my thanksgiving. 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



THE FROZEN RAIN 



O ! the frozen rain upon the ground, 
Upon the trees and all around : 
And e'en the tiny bits of grass 
Are crystal white. What can surpass 
The picturesque frozen rain? 

When e'er my eyes this scene behold 
Sweet visions of the things untold 
Light up my heart. I can but gaze 
As, sparkling 'neath the sun's bright rays, 
I view the frozen rain. 

These diamond-studded twinkles bright 
Must be of heaven a sweet foresight ! 
'Tis not of earth they seem a part — 
They're food for every anxious heart ! 
"Enchanting frozen rain! 



112 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



A WINTER'S SUNRISE 

There comes now o'er the eastern hills the 
glorious sun, 
His face now glows with radiance of pure 
light; 
He now views man and many works that must 
be done 
Before the darkness of the coming night. 

We gladly welcome thee, O, powerful king of 
day! 
Glad are we now to feel thou art in sight ; 
We missed thy warmth so much whilst thou 
wast far away — 
The warmth thou bringeth with thy bril- 
liant light. 

The cold and bitter frost canst not withstand 
thy gaze, 

And sheets of ice before thee disappear ; 
Thou showeth many glories of the God of praise, 

As daily thou dost shed thy Hght so dear. 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 113 



THE DEATH OF A SOLDIER^ 
COMRADE 



WRITTEN WHILE A SOLDIER AT FORT WASHAKIE, 
WYO., AUTUMN, 1902. A TRUE NARRATIVE 

Among the sad- tinted shadows 

That've painted for me the past, 

There's one which in tender touching 
Is a shade of different cast. 



I once knew a youthful soldier, 

Full of hope's ambition and skill ; 

From his comrades he won true friend- 
ship — 
From his cavalry steed — good will. 



Fast friends we became together, 

And laughed in our comradeship's 
way — 

I'm sure no friendship was greater 
In David and Jonathan's day. 



He told me of his home in Ohio, 

Of a mother who queened this home : 
Of a sister, I think, and a brother, 



114 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 

Who longed that he home would 
come. 



He told me a sweetheart was waiting — 
This gave me the tenderest touch — 

I told him of mine, true and loving, 

Who was longing for me — oh, so 
much. 



One day he came into the office 

(Where I sat as clerk of the troop), 

And said he was going out hunting — 

With pleasure he was ready to whoop 



I learned that a party of officers, 

And ladies, and some troop-men. 

Were going to hunt in the mountains 

('Twas W^^oming where we were 
then). 



The party went out for this pleasure, 

In the late autumn's eve of this State 

With wagons, provision and laughter — 
A departure of merriest rate. 

In autumn the mountains of Wyoming 
Steal the mantle of cold Winter's 
shroud. 

By their artful ways of teasing 

The soft'ning will of the cloud. 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 115 



While hunting, it seems, that my comrade 

Strayed too far all alone, 
To follow elk- tracks of such freshness 

That it seemed but recently gone. 

He lost his way in the snowdrift, 

But, ne'er found the game that he 
sought — 
His tired limbs became helpless, 

While his brain had the power of 
thought. 

He plowed away with his fingers 

The cold and cruel snow, 
In which was hidden the ghastly 

Great Hand that he soon would know. 

There was no fire to warm him, 

And none that he could make — 

The chilly winds brought for him 

Their offerings of cheerless ache. 

He lay with a log for his comfort, 

And thought of the sweets of the 
past : — 
Of mother and sister and sweetheart, 

Who had now surely seen him their 
last. 



He thought of the pleasures now blighted 
Ambitions he never could tell — 



ii6 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



Ah! what means this cold, chilling numb- 
ing? 
Yea, the meaning he knew now too 
well! 



At his party's camp he was missing, 

And a diligent search was then made, 

But all of one day and another's 

Daylight was beginning to fade 

When they found his yet breathing body — 
Pleading eyes beyond any aid ! 



At the camp he talked and told them 

How he wandered away and was lost ; 

But, no healing art could e'er reach him. 
Though his party felt keenly the cost 

In their hearts for the youth now blighted 
As a flower heart-deadened by frost. 



Back to post they brought him for burial — 
My heart seemed to melt in its grief! 

The sight of his face brought mem'ries 
From which I could find no relief I 



The sending to his mother his letters 
And valuables that she could keep, 

Was a part of my soldierly duty, 

And a one that was tearfully deep. 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 117 



He had read me some of these letters. 

So breathing with fond mother's love ; 

So^ftiU of endearing " God-bless-you's" 
That are touched with the mercies 
above. 



O, mother of him who was my comrade! 

Your blessings I return to your hand, 
Your boy will need them no more — 

He's, I hope, in a better land. 



But, this "bread" that you casted so 
fondly 
Upon the waters of Life, which to 
you 
Is returning — oh, may it be laden 
With blessings for you all anew ! 

He was loved by all who knew him. 

His departure is bathed with the 
tears 
Of many who were 'bove him in the 
station 
Of his useful, tender years. 



Look above for your comfort, dear 

mother, 

You'll find there one peaceful and 

deep ; 

We know that your heart is bursting! — 

'Tis cruel to tell you, ** Don't weep!" 



ii8 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



Be resigned to the will of the Father, 
He'll send then His spirit to heal — 

The bright star of hope for the future 
Will make many a woe a weal. 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 119 



SCAEVOLA 



All honor to undaunted fortitude 

Where ever such a spirit breathe in life ! 

The legendary history of Rome, 

Of ancient date, relates one truly grand: 

A Roman youth — One Gacius Macius — /' 

Resolved to end a certain pressing siege 

Against his city ; driven by a man, 

One king Porsenna was his famous name. 

Into his camp this youth stole secretly, 

With willed intent to kill this man of war, 

But by an error killed another who 

Was secretary for the one he sought. 

Be'ng captured in this deed he then was brought 
Before the king who threat 'nd him with fire, 
Demanding that this youth should tell him all 
The plots of what the Romans sought to do. 

"Tell you my people's plots?" replied the youth, 
"Or 3^ou will place me in your burning flames?" 
Then, walking silently toward the fire, 
Thrusted his hand — the right one — in to burn; 
Unflinchingly he stood 'til it was charred! 

The king and all his men in wonder stood ; 

And whispered, "Gods! what fortitude is this!" 



I20 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



Go to your people, youth," the king replied; 
Such dauntlessness shall ne'er burn in my 
flames!" 



" Scaevola" afterward was called this youth — ; 

Left-handed lived he for the cause he loved. ' 
O, what a lesson of courageous vim! 
A trueness for the principle of right ! 

Live for the right ! Be maimed, or die for it ! ' 

" Fear not those who the body kill, but fear \ 

Him, who hath after death, the power still 'l 

To cast the soul into eternal flames!" \ 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 121 



THE BEAUTY OF IMAGINATION 
AND ITS INFLUENCE UPON LIFE 

An Address Delivered Before a Literary Circle, Manila 
P. L, November, 1906, by the Author of This Book. 

I believe, to the average mind the word "im- 
agination" suggests childish ^'daydreams," 
fooUsh"air castles/' "idle fancies," and "sweet 
nothings." Let us see if the word has not a 
deeper meaning. Let us see if we cannot find in 
it something of real value to life. 

pij-st— Imaginations, hke our thoughts, are 
either good or bad. Bad thoughts debase and 
dehumanize ; bad imag;inations demonize. Good 
thoughts inspire noble actions; good imagin- 
ations actuate great deeds. But, my subject 
deals with the lofty summit— the acme of im- 
agination. The beauty of Imagination is the 
poetry of Life: It is the fragrant breath of the 
flower ; the whisper of the breeze ; the wooing of 
the bird ; the murmur of the brook ; the voice of 
the wave; the awakening tread of spring; the 
joyous laugh of summer; the crowning gold of 
autumn's eve, and the spotless shroud of winter. 
It is the eye of the moon; the jewels of the stars; 
the glorying pride of day ; the traiUng robes of 
night; the silver of the moonlight, and the kiss of 
the sunbeams. 



122 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



Its Influence upon Life: Upon consideration, 
it is astonishing to note how many of our im- 
aginations are "possibiHties." Imagination 
gives to the poverty of youth a sight of the 
wealth and splendor that may be for him ; to the 
despairing lover a view of the love and happiness 
that may be his; to the tired soldier it presents 
the laudatory sounds of victory that are ahead of 
him; it reveals the glowing light of Fame and 
Honor to the longing eye of Ambition. It 
sweetens childhood's play, and enriches declin- 
ing age. It is the spark of hope to the work- 
ing-man, and the lamp of happiness to the 
millionaire. It is the wolf of want; and the lap 
of luxury. It is the love-light of mother's eyes; 
and the heaven under the roof of the lover. It 
is the hand of Friendship ; and the arms of Love. 
It is the source of fruitful endeavors, and the 
root of renow^ned accomplishments. It is the 
forerunning "will" of the persevering "way." 
It is the view of sin's torture below, and the 
sight of celestial glories above ; the view of Death, 
and the sight of Life; the view of Earth's frowns, 
and the sight of Heaven's smiles. 

O, weird, fleeting phantasm of Muse, 

That playeth 'mid the pearly dews of life ! 

And through the twink'ling, jeweled portals 

bright 
Of heaven's purity thou soareth oft. 
And to thy fond abode returneth sweet 
And dreamy whispers that to Life unfold 
The smiles that speak of blissful hope, and, of 
The glowing faith within the blithesome heart. 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 123 

Sweet Dreamer! that rejoices with the songs 
Of silv'ry twitters that the winged hosts 
Of earth resound their inward hearts of love 
And gratitude unto their Maker ! That 
Dreams 'mid the sun's departing tints to Day; 
His welcome smiles to Morn's sweet breath; the 

streams 
Of silvered lights of moonbeams' flick'ring 

gifts 
To Night; the faultless diamond twinkles of 
The studded firmament above ; the bright 
Hued panorama of the covenant 
Of God to Noah; and, the dancing blue 
Of ocean's balmy mists; the fragrance and 
The varied hues of Nature's flowered dress; 
The sermons of the fading shades of gold 
Of Autumn's eve ; the lifeless rocks and hills ; 
The curse of sin; the hand of death; and, all 
That Life proclaims. 

Heart of the heart, that feels 
The warmth of love! Soul of the soul, that 

hears 
Celestial songs, and sees the smiles above 
Of angels' love ! Sweet of the sweets of Life I 



124 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



RETROSPECTION 



Now through dim mists of years I view the past 
And many scenes of which my heart holds 
dear 

To my interior vision thick and fast 

They are presented very bright and clear. 

I see the dear old home where I was born, 

And where a part of childhood's days I 
spent ; 
'Twas there the radiant rising sun each mom 

Viewed many scenes of quietness and con- 
tent. 

There is my dear old father, hale and strong, 
Moving with gentle tread about the place, 

While mother sings a dear old sacred song 

With cheerful countenance and smiling face. 

There mother, with a loving lullaby, 

Holds me, her babe, within her gentle arm — 
Methinks I hear her whisper with a sigh, 

"May God protect thee, dear one, from all 
harm." 

'Twas there my little sister, sweet and kind, 

Was with me and we played so glad and 
free: 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 125 



When ne'er we had a thotight of troubled mind, 
Nor of the many future things to be. 

But mother's voice and Httle sister's, too, 

Are silenced now — no more they speak to 
mc! 

For they have long bade me a last adieu 

And left me lonely here on life's wild sea. 

But, soon I, too, must leave this world behind — 
When I have run the mighty race of life — 

Then may I rest from troubles of the mind, 
And every daily care of toil and strife. 



126 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



TEACH ME 



Teach me, O God, the story of Thy Son! 

Teach me to feel Thy Pentacost within ; 
Teach me to pray, in truth, "Thy will be 
done" — 

Oh, teach me! 



Teach me to see the world about my feet ; 
Teach me to hear its music's sweetest 
strains ; 
Teach me to know the bitter from the sweet — 
Oh, teach me ! 

Teach me a word of loving truth within. 

Teach me a look to show this precious 
truth ; 
Teach me a touch of tenderness to win — 
Oh, teach me! 

Teach me the faith that leadeth to the light ; 

Teach me a song of ever joyous day ; 
Teach me a step to walk within the right — 
Oh, teach me! 



VOICES OF SOLITUDE 127 



** REST IN JESUS " 

The Dying Words of My Sister, to Whom I Dedi- 
cated ''The Household Queen," and Who Went to Her 
''Rest" March 17, 1903. 

Dear sister, to "rest in Jesus " 

You told us you would go ; 
And now that you've gone and left us, 

As others have before, 
We think of these words with rapture — 

We know your "rest" is sweet — 
Although our hearts droop in mourning, 

Farewell, until we meet 
With you in the great eternal 

To share with you your "rest," 
Where there is no pain of parting 

And ever we are blessed. 



128 VOICES OF SOLITUDE 



THE ! ! ! 



THE END ! wSickle of Time, 
That's bladed with farewells of many tears! 

And Nevermore is thine 
Own countersign to moments, days and years. 

Thou art the sacred break 
That marks the sever of the silver cord 

Of Life. The sad mistake 
That marks the "might-have-been" where Life 
hath trod! 

Where love begins to wane, 
Thou standeth with the drooping shades of night 

For that which 3'et remains — 
The Life's divided shadow from the light. 

Thou art the period 
That Nature uses for her written book — 

Her chapter's marked-retard — 
The grave of "It is finished's'' parting look. 

But, yet we find in thee 
A truly dear and sympathizing friend — 

The sweetest liberty 
From sorrowed past — our future hope, THE 
END! 



APR S3 1907 



